The Hiding Place
by snowytelevision
Summary: We were hiding. We were playing games of hide and seek with people and objects. He was forbidden, but we kept finding each other, because our hiding places always seemed to be the same.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Kurt has lost his confidence, his passion for theatre, and his academic drive after being rejected from NYADA. He decides on going his fallback school in Chicago to major in journalism, where he has Blaine Anderson for a professor - a seemingly confident, attractive, and obviously married man who Kurt automatically is drawn to. As he learns more about his professor, he's confronted with the fact that not everything is what it seems from the outside…

He was forbidden. I had white boots up to my knees and he had too long of sleeves. We were hiding. We were playing games of hide and seek with people and objects. He was forbidden, but we kept finding each other, because our hiding places always seemed to be the same.

I originally had different plans for college. I lived my previous life with dreams that were so big that I could never wrap my arms around them, my grip loosened and I lost my dreams. When I lost my dreams, I became depressed. I was familiar with the feeling, but this was different. I opened a letter, I got a paper cut, and I read words of rejection that stung more than the prickling sting of the cut on my finger. I had to make up a new dream, a small dream, one that I could hold in the palm of one hand and never lose. I thought of New York, everything that made it what it was, and I thought of words. I thought of how simple a word could be with such complex meaning behind it. I choose journalism. I hated myself. For that and for many things.

My father did not understand. My step mother smiled like she always did. My step brother asked me what journalism meant. I shrugged them all off, laced up my boots, and I went on train. Chicago was more beautiful than I expected it to be. It wasn't New York. It wasn't even that close. It was a city, though, and it felt like a city. It had a pulse, one that never raced, but it thumped like the faintest and most overjoyed heart. It should have made me happy. I should have walked through the streets with my suitcase and a smile on my face. I didn't. I don't know why I didn't. I should have been proud of myself in that moment. I was going to a university, one that I had competition to beat out to get into; one that was top rated for my major. I didn't want this for myself. That was all it was. I got to my dorm, I saw the shadow of a roommate on the other side of the room, I unpacked and I collapsed in bed with my clothes still on. I thought that nothing could ever get worse. I decided I wouldn't let it get any worse. I broke my own promise.

It was the second day of classes that I saw him. He stood with confidence that radiated off of him before the class, his sleeves rolled up, with a smile that left me feeling warmth in my chest that reminded me of the flutter of my heart beating quickly as the lights rose up on me before a performance. I resented him secretly and silently just for that. He was my professor. I gulped, readjusted my scarf, and tapped my boots together underneath my desk. His name was Mr. Anderson. I closed my eyes, it was the briefest moment, and I whispered his name under my breath. I did it so quietly that nobody noticed, but I felt it in my heart. I felt his name attaching to me. I wanted to make it a game. I could possibly make him notice me if I tried. I could seduce him. Then I laughed, right there, in the middle of class as Mr. Anderson wrote in chalk on the board. My eyes bulged, my heart cracked, and the whole room looked at me.

"Is something funny about my curriculum?" He asked, searching me for answers with his eyes. "What's your name, anyways?"

"No, no. I'm – just - I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel." After I had spoken, a realization hit me. I looked down at my clothes. I looked at my hands. I was shaking. I was underdressed. I could barely say my name. That was when I noticed I had changed. I had changed because of a letter and a paper cut.

"Okay then Mr. Hummel; please keep your spontaneous laughter down while I'm teaching, alright?" I nodded to him. He turned around and kept writing on the board. Class ended, eventually. I walked out of the classroom with my head held low while Mr. Anderson sat on his desk watching the students leave. He stopped me, a touch to my arm. My head shot up. My whole body was too warm; I swore I was drowning in my scarf.

"I've heard a lot about you, Kurt." He began, "You had such touching letters of recommendation. The admissions board kept ranting about you, talking about how you were this outstanding student with all of this confidence in yourself and your beliefs. I see you now and I don't see that there. I mean - I'm sorry to – wow, I really overstepped didn't I?" I think he said that because of the look I had on my face. I reached inside myself then, grabbing a hold of the little confidence I had left.

"People change, Mr. Anderson." I couldn't say anything more.

There was one day, a month later, where I gave myself a paper cut on purpose. I had just hung up the phone after a conversation with my dad. I held a letter from a friend in my hand, running the corners of the paper across the tips of my fingers. I inhaled deeply. It stung for days.

And I kept doing it, until I turned to something a little sharper.

Mr. Anderson's class grew to be the only thing I looked forward to. I spent the entire hour coming up with ideas, playing a game in my mind, one that ended with him wanting me. It was nice to think that someone could for a change. I thought about making it a reality. I would have, but there was a photo on his desk and a ring around his finger that pushed the thought out of my mind. He was married. The worst part was it was to another man. I think I could have been easier if he was married to a woman. I most likely would have gotten over my crush a lot faster. It kept growing, with every class, every good grade I received from him. I bit my lips so much in that class that it was beginning to show. I had forgotten how to fix my appearance. Slowly, parts of my wardrobe that were always staple pieces were pushed to the back of my closet. My roommate, Wes, who I soon discovered was not looking for friendship, even asked me if I was okay. The problem was that I was okay. I had settled into becoming the person I never wanted to be. I was ordinary.

But so was he. I figured that out, soon enough.

I walked to class feeling like an explorer of the arctic, it was December. It was a tough walk, the sidewalks covered in snow, and the wind blowing on my face most likely making my lips more chapped than they previous were. I had forgotten gloves and shoved my hands into my pockets, shivering until I reached the building. I opened the door, stood in the doorway and stomped my feet on the rug, walking through the halls. It was empty, I noticed, and I instantly felt like an idiot. I was about to turn around to make the trek back to my dorm, when I noticed the light on in Mr. Anderson's room. I walked as quietly as I could manage, my boots squeaking on the floor beneath me, and stood in the doorway. He was sitting there, still wearing his winter jacket, opening his desk drawer. He pulled out a flask, silver and shining, putting it to his lips. He tilted his head back; eyes closed, and downed it. I watched his throat move, unsure of how I should have felt about what he was doing. He put the flask down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and turned his head. Our eyes met.  
"Mr. Hummel, class is canceled for today." He didn't slur.

"I realized." And I should have turned away, but I didn't. "You know, you're really one to talk about confidence, Mr. Anderson, especially because you seem to get most of your confidence from a bottle. Practice what you preach." Then I did, I turned away, and I got halfway down the hallway before his voice softly echoed throughout the building after me.  
"He hits me." I stood, looking towards the door and not behind me, my hands shook. I hoped with every piece of me that he wasn't saying what I thought he was. I should have left. I couldn't move.

"Who hits you, Mr. Anderson?" I managed those words, I managed to turn around. I took in the sight of him, wrecked and drunk. His hair a mess, his jacket now off to show his shirt with sleeves that pooled around his hands. I bit my lip. It bled a little, I saw him wince. "Does your husband hit you?"

"I – I shouldn't be telling you this." Now he was slurring, my eyes prickled with tears. "He, yes, he – yes."

"He hits you."

"Pushes me, mostly." I just stared at him, standing in the empty, long hallway that was glowing from the bright white of the snow through the large windows. "I deserved it. This time, I deserved it." There was so much space between us, yet it felt like I was holding him in my arms. It felt too intimate. It no longer felt like winter where I stood, but summer, I was sweating from the heat building up inside of me. I was angry, I was angry because I thought Mr. Anderson was in love. The ring on his finger and the photo on his desk were misleading, I had discovered the meaning of "everything is not like it seems." And it isn't, I can tell you, it just isn't.

"You don't deserve that."

"Kurt, you don't know me!" He yelled it, it echoed around us, and I took one step forward.

"Shhh." Another step, another, another.

"Don't touch me, oh god, please don't touch me." I was watching a man cry, a drunk, hopeless, broken man. He was my teacher. He was forbidden. My hand touched his shoulder. He gasped, his eyes looking up into mine. His whole face seemed to be wet with tears; I had never seen someone cry like that. Just from being touched. I wondered what would happen if I touched his entire body, if I broke him in other ways, if I fixed him, too.

The snow lasted awhile, but classes started again two days later. The other day was the only thing I could think of. I had left after that moment we shared, making up a fumbling excuse and running back to my dorm as quickly as I could. Even before my dreams were crushed, I was never good at dealing with emotions. I only knew how to comfort myself, and I still struggled with that at times as well. I had no choice but to go to class, so I threw on an outfit and mixed my hair to at least look presentable and hiked out into the Chicago snow covered streets. I made it to Mr. Anderson's class a little bit early, walking in and hesitating at the door. He looked different. It was the sleeves again, his hair ungelled, his smile lost. I walked past him, seeing his eyes drift towards the window as I moved across the room. I sighed, wondering if he was actually going to behave immaturely about what had happened the other day. He taught the class and my mind began to fall into its regular daydreaming state. I imagined what it would be like to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him until he forgot about all of the bad things in his life, until the image of his husband was erased, until he wanted me so bad he was aching. These thoughts made it hard for me to sit still. Suddenly, class was over as soon as it began, and Mr. Anderson stood by the window, his breath creating circles of fog on the glass. His hand touched the fog, tracing a pattern with his finger. I waited patiently for him to turn around and notice me. He didn't.  
A week passed and winter break finally came. I was going home in two days to visit my family, something I had been dreading, and figured that I should buy some new clothes to at least look like I had been doing something in Chicago that I usually would. I was scared to show them how much I had changed. So I decided to explore the city a bit, and I found some beauty within it. There was a vintage shop three blocks over, it appeared small from the outside, but it went on forever. I suddenly drifted back into my old ways and began rummaging through the store, finding treasures and smiling at how I hadn't lost my good taste. I placed my few items at the counter to be held, and went downstairs. That's when I saw him. There were shelves of bowties along the wall he stood before, his eyes scanning over each one. I stayed put on the creaky staircase, moving just enough for it to creak loudly. His head turned.  
"Hello, Mr. Hummel." He said, turning around and reaching out to grab a bowtie. He walked over to the mirror beside them, holding it up to his collar and frowning. "I really hope you aren't following me."

"Of course not! I'm just shopping. Are you okay?"

"Way to cut to the chase." He put the bowtie back on the shelf, exhaling and staring forward as I walked down the rest of the stairs and towards him. "I'm sorry I ignored you."

"You don't have to apologize to me. I'm just a student." I shrugged, watching as he reached for another one off of the shelf, "I like that one. It would look nice on you."

"I like it too." He held it in his hands, "I'm honestly embarrassed that you saw me like that. Nothing is what I made it sound like. My husband is a great guy."

"That's bullshit." My hand shot up to my mouth in shock of my own words, I backed away from him.

"Don't act like you're wrong, Kurt." He whispered it, gulping, "Sometimes I think if I say it enough I'll start to believe it."

"Why don't you leave him? If he is hurting you...why would you stay? Why would you stay if you know that you deserve better?"

"Do I deserve better? It is so much easier to say than to do. I've packed my bags so many times, but I never get out the door."

"You deserve so much better, Mr. Anderson." My voice deepened as I stepped back to where I once was beside him. I saw him shiver. I wondered if there was a breeze.

"You really think that?"

"I know it. Let me..." I choked, so aware of everything I was doing and not even caring, "Let me show you."

"What are you saying, Kurt?" He was whispering, so small sounding, and so eager. His words were flowing through my veins, giving me confidence, making me want him even more. I leaned closer to him.

"I'm saying that you could leave this store with me. I'm saying...I'm saying that I want to help you forget." My last word left him in shock, his body swaying when it hit him. He licked his lips, reached into his wallet, and handed me a slip of paper.

"Meet me here." He looked at me, his eyes huge, and walked away with the bowtie in his hand still. I didn't move until I heard the final creak of the stairs. My heart was racing, my legs shaking, as I circled the downstairs of the store once and ran up to the top floor, going to the counter and making my purchases. I looked down at the piece of paper and typed the address into my phone's GPS; it was only a few blocks away. I started walking, trying so hard not to run, but my body was aching with desire. I wanted to see him. I wanted to kiss him, to hide him away and make him safe. I had to show him that he was more than what he thought. I had to.

I got to the address, realizing that it was an office building. I looked at the paper again, seeing the floor and room number scratched on the back of it. I walked inside curiously, finding the elevator and clicking the button for the third floor. I tried to come up with a plan, I wasn't sure of what I would do first. I wondered what he would let me do. The elevator doors opened and I looked side to side, seeing the door on the right with the correct room number. I paused before it, knowing that once I knocked on the door, a lot would be changing for me. But wasn't that the current theme of my life already? I knocked twice, hearing some shuffling until the door opened. He stood there, mouth slightly opened, and moved out of the way to let me in.

"I have never invited anyone here before." He said, leaning again the wall. I took in the surroundings. It didn't look like an office, but more like an apartment. There were two rooms; the one I stood in had the features of an office, a mini fridge, a futon. But, the other room looked slightly like a bedroom from where I was standing. Confusion swept across my face, and he noticed. "This has always been my office, but more recently it's become...a hiding spot."

"Oh." I hated the idea of him being alone here, drunk and crying, hurt from his husband. My eyes welled up with tears at the images I imagined, and I turned away before he could see, focusing on the view from the window.

"What did you say before? Something about showing me what I deserved?" I froze, my breath hitching.

"You make it sound so...dirty."

"Is it not?" He stood beside me, his eyes incredibly dark and overwhelming.

"It isn't. You deserve...love, Mr. Anderson. You deserve someone who will make you feel so good about yourself. Someone who will make you feel nothing but the best feelings."

"Kurt?"

"Yes?" He grabbed at my arm, turning me to face him, he didn't let go.

"Can you call me Blaine?"

"Of course. Anything you want." I watched how my words affected him, his quiet hums under his breath, and the tiniest smirk across his face.

"Anything I want...that's really putting it all out there."

"You deserve it." His hands crawled up my stomach, one of them fisting my shirt and pulling me close to him. My heart began to race even faster, to the point where my ears were thrumming along. He leaned in, his free hand touching my jaw, his thumb running over my lips. He closed his eyes, but I couldn't do the same. I didn't know how to stop watching him, even when he leaned in to kiss me, so sweet and passionate that my entire body reacted. I now was so close to him that we were nearly one person, our mouths connected, our tongues slowly finding a rhythm, his gasps and my moans swirling to combine and make a symphony of sound to bounce off the walls around us. I closed my eyes, finally, and my body took over the kiss. He was no longer in control, but he didn't seem to mind. I wondered if that was because he was used to be being the one who was dominated, and that thought alone made me calm down. We separated and I think the world may have done the same, too. It was just that much. I had never been kissed like that. It wasn't even the newness of it all, but the fact that it seemed so right and so good. I now understood every romantic movie I had ever seen. I understood the powerful, life changing want that felt like fire and all of the things that are bad for you but look so beautiful from far away. I wanted to kiss him again, ignite myself, and know that if someone was to be watching us right then and there that I would look like the most beautiful disaster. Wasn't that what I was? What I am? I couldn't kiss him again, not then. Because no matter how much I wanted to, I wanted to protect him even more.

"Maybe we could just stay here forever." I don't know what possessed me to say the words I did, but after I said them I realized how true they really were. Blaine stared at me, not in an angry or sexual way, he just stared. His eyes had melancholy shades of brown and serene specks of green. He was a contradiction. He was a lot of things.  
"I like to think sometimes that the most beautiful things in the world are hidden away, it makes me feel good. That would mean everything that is beautiful that you see day to day, even the things that seem so exquisite are nothing compared to what is hidden behind closed doors. But, I have to be wrong, because if I were right – and that were true all along, I don't understand why someone with such a beautiful soul like yourself could ever be walking about. You would be hidden. Maybe…maybe that would have helped this situation." I listened to his words, I tried not to cry, and I watched him. I wished he could say those words on repeat for the rest of my life. No one had ever said anything like that to me. At that point, I didn't even care if it were true. It was something. I was something – something beautiful.

"How would it have helped? What is this situation?"

"I want you so bad, Kurt." He shivered at his own words, "I shouldn't for so many reasons. But I do. Do you want to know why?" I nodded. "Because my own goddamn husband for going on five years has forgotten how to treat a person. It was never like this before. We dated for 3 years before we got married. Two years ago, something happened. I'll never fully understand what triggered it, but he pushed me. He pushed me and hit me. And you know what? He never apologized. I figured he would the next morning. He didn't. We never talked about it. We still don't talk about it. The first year, it was never frequent…there were never any warning signs. But last year is when it got bad. I don't want to scare you away from relationships, Kurt. I don't want to explain every time he's hit me and why. But, I guess this shows you that even the most confident people from the outside, can be completely fucked up on the inside. I would never be in the hiding spot for the most beautiful things. I would be the one trying to knock the door down so I would have somewhere to hide where he could never find me again." And he was crying. With his last word came a giant breath, he exhaled tears, and let them roll down his face. It was settled. I was going to change this. I was going to save him. I was going to show him that he would be hidden away, we could be hidden together, and nothing could touch us. Not even razor blades or abusive husbands. In the room of the most beautiful things, we would be safe. We would only touch each other. We could touch each other's hearts, bodies, and minds.  
Nothing could be more beautiful than us.


	2. Chapter 2

We didn't sleep together, not that night. I think it could have broke him if I touched him too much. It would have been my first time. I spent the night on his futon. He insisted it after we kissed for hours, lazily after awhile, just kissing to kiss instead of to feel. He told me it made his nerves relax. I didn't ask why he was anxious. I didn't want to know.

There was a pigeon sitting on the window sill when I awoke, I realized tomorrow I had to go back home to Ohio. I thought of this as the bird flew away, I thought of more than that, too. I couldn't help thinking that I was a lot like that bird. I needed to get away all of my life. When I applied for college, none of the schools were in my home state; I knew I wasn't destined to be there. I had to move on. I don't know why I choose Chicago, but I did. And I looked out the window, and I watched the bird, and I couldn't help wondering if I would fly away again someday. Maybe I would stay put. I turned my head full of ideas of the future and looked towards Blaine's sleeping figure through the doorframe. He snored quietly, his body rising with every breath and falling with each exhale. It was weird, we hadn't talked much, but I felt connected to him already. It could have been because he shared so many parts of himself when we talked. I wanted to wake him up just to talk, but I couldn't bring myself to. He looked peaceful. I hoped he felt it. I really did.

"Kurt! Wait up!" He did wake up eventually, and when he did he forced me to venture out in to the city with him. I had confessed I wasn't that familiar with Chicago, he gaped at me for it, and instantly assumed that I had to be shown the best sections of the city. I never expected to get such a rush from the sights, even things I had overlooked as I had passed by them every single day. Blaine showed me them with enthusiasm seeping from his pours, his confidence shining through. The tiniest details in my surroundings affected me unlike ever before, making me realize that my current habitat might not have been as awful as I made it out to be from a few quick glances. He made me dig to find the treasure the city held, and I dug and dug, I was eager for his approval. I received it, even if I didn't notice right away. We were walking on navy pier, it was extremely chilly, but people were everywhere due to Winter Wonderfest. Blaine led me by the hand, unaware of how much it meant to me, and walked me away from the people heading towards the festival. We walked towards the edge of the pier, looking out onto the hazy water. It was bone chilling and glorious in the strangest way. I watched as the snow began to fall, blowing over the water, as if the snow was made up of a million unwanted tiny pieces of paper in someone's hand being blown away to litter over cities and people and the small, unimportant world. I thought of how many trees would be wasted if the snow really were paper, and I thought about how many trees I had wasted with self harming paper cuts on the tips of my fingers. I remembered the sting that always caught me off guard. But my hand was being held, right there on the pier, the hand that I had hurt on purpose. The hand attached to the arm I hurt, was being touched, was being gripped. I looked at Blaine, hoping that how much this mattered was reflected in my eyes. He looked back at me and he smiled the most genuine smile I had ever seen anyone smile, even a child, and he blushed. He looked down and laughed at himself.

"When I looked at you, I forgot how old I am." He said and laughed again, looking out onto the water, "I look at you and feel young, but when I talk to you I feel so old. I think you're an old soul."

"People have said that to me before." I told him, "I have always taken to adults more than people my own age. They just…don't get me."

"Well, now that you're in college you should be able to be friends with people of many different age ranges." He paused and took a look at me, I shrugged. "No luck with that, huh?"

"I haven't talked to many people. Things have been…difficult for me lately." I winced at my own words, realizing that I had it so much easier than the man standing beside me.

"What do you mean?" He said first and then added: "Hey, we've talked about me far too much. Talk."

"I really hate talking about myself."

"Well, I guess we'll have to loosen you up a bit, huh?" Blaine let go of my hand and reached over to squeeze my shoulder, walking away and motioning for me to follow. I did that, running a bit to catch up with him. We walked for awhile, eventually stopping and grabbing a taxi. We split the fare and got out at the corner of a street; I instantly caught sight of the bar before us, and rolled my eyes. Blaine's plans ran through my mind. He was going to try to loosen me up by getting me incredibly drunk, which was something I had only done once. I wasn't sure of my tendencies when under the influence, and I began to wonder if tonight I was going to let him take advantage of me. That was always the plan, anyways, wasn't it? We started for the bar, Blaine's smirk appearing slowly across his face. I reflected the expression back at him, unsure of what I really felt in the moment. He opened the door for me and I was hit with a flood of color. There were murals everywhere. Bright ones, dark ones, scary twisted figures with open mouths and glimmering red tongues, yellow eyed gargoyles, zombies with their heads in their hands, their hearts smashed on the floor. I took it all in, turning my head only to be hit with another display of artwork. The further I went into the bar, the softer the artwork became. It didn't take me long to realize that even though the art was soft and wispy, the darkness was more prominent than that of the exaggerated cartoons in the front of the building. I admired the deceiving paintings with shiny eyes, my fingertips getting tingly with the urge to reach out and follow the creases in the paint. Blaine interrupted, eventually, tapping my shoulder lightly and waving me towards a table in the corner. We sat quietly at first, Blaine's fingers tapping on the edge of the table. He ordered us a basket of French fries, and then slid the drink menu in my direction.

"What do you like?" I knew then what he was referring to, of course, but the sensuality in his voice was clear. It hit me, my stomach fluttered nervously, and I blushed from my neck upwards. I could see Blaine smirking in the corner of my eye. His confidence was annoyingly infectious, bringing a cheesy smile to my face.

"I don't drink often." He frowned at me.

"Do you ever have any fun, Kurt?" He leaned inwards, "What do you do to loosen up?"

"I…" My mouth went dry, "I used to sing."

"Really?" Blaine went back to sitting regularly in his chair. "I'll be right back." I watched him get up and go to the bar, ordering our drinks. He came back quickly, placing a glass infront of me. "Don't question it, just try it."

"Okay." I licked my lips, "I trust you." I watched him swallow my words with his drink. I could see him faintly remembering that I was the one who began this entire charade. I began the seducing. I was never the vulnerable one. He repositioned himself in his chair, the realization hitting him right before me. I took a sip of my drink; it was sour and heavy on my tongue. I could tell from the first sip that it would be one of those things that are terrible but you can't stop going back to them. I pushed it towards the side of the table by the wall and looked at Blaine. He was staring down at his drink, as if he was questioning it, or maybe he was questioning everything else. "Hey, you okay?"

"Oh…yeah, yeah. This song just reminds me of something." Before he mentioned it, I had barely noticed the faint background music. It was a gentle love song, one that could be the kind that brought goose bumps to your skin and built up longing in your heart. I focused on it, my eyes closing as I did, and listened to the words. It finished, my eyes opened. I didn't ask what it meant. I didn't want to know. "You said you like to sing. What else do you like?"

"I said I used to sing. I used to do a lot of things, before." I took another sip of my drink, now tasting the smoothness of the apple flavor lurking beneath the sour first sip.

"Before what?" He questioned me, his voice light, easing me into talking about it. I hadn't really told anyone how I felt after being rejected. My dad could tell, just by the looks of me, and didn't interrogate me. He told everyone to let me be, and they did. I guess he thought that I would get over it.

"You're going to think this is stupid."

"If it's important to you, Kurt, then it isn't stupid."

"Okay," I sighed, "I got rejected from my dream school. It was a long process to get in, one that led me on to think I was getting in. It was like I didn't expect not to get in, you know? I didn't think about what my life would be like if I didn't. If I would keep performing – it was a musical theatre program, did I mention that? Anyway, I was devastated. I barely moved from my bed for days…nothing feels the same anymore. It's like auditioning for American Idol, right? I feel like the guy that thinks he's the best singer in the world, with so much confidence, that got told by Simon Cowell that he sucks."

"First of all, Simon Cowell is no longer a judge on American Idol." Blaine laughed, trying to break the tension between us. "I think the way you reacted was normal, it makes perfect sense why you feel the way you do. But I think you're more than average, Kurt. I think…someone like you should be able to rise above what is normal for you to feel. I know right now that you still have parts of you lost in the mix of what happened, I can tell. I could tell the first day of school. I just think that you, the Kurt I can see beneath the layers, would fight the feeling of being rejected with full force." I huffed, took a long sip of my drink, and looked away from him. He reached out and grabbed my hands, he held them tight. "You're a hurricane. I don't think that you have realized that yet, but you're the kind of guy who is a mixture of everything. You're a thunderstorm, you're damaging winds, and you're destruction. And that all sounds so terrible, I know it. Think about it, you've got quick wit, killer confidence…and God, Kurt, if you don't see that you have me wrapped around your finger, see it now. You're a hurricane, and I'm afraid to get close to you. But you're too interesting to look away from." I digested his words. They were hard to decipher, because I wasn't aware of how I was affecting him. My heart began to race and I felt a little dizzy, I looked over at my glass and realized somehow it was almost gone. I was drunk.

"I'll be right back…" I mumbled towards him and rose from my seat, hands and legs shaking. I somehow found the bathroom, and then checked first to see if it was empty before I sighed at my reflection in the mirror. I closed my eyes tightly, gripping the sink with white knuckled hands. I had no idea why the words were hitting me so hard. Why everything was hitting me so hard. He said I had him wrapped around my finger, but wasn't that him? I opened my eyes, meeting my own reflected eyes before noticing Blaine's figure in the corner of the mirror, leaned against the wall.

"If this is too much for you, we'll stop. We'll walk away and we won't talk about it ever again."His eyes were dark. Darker than I ever thought they were. I responded to him the only way I knew how to. I walked towards him, I put my hands on his face, and I pulled him in. I kissed him. There were words on my tongue, begging to be said, words I could never say. I gave them to him. His mouth parted and I deepened the kiss, the words between us never being said aloud but still mattering, still making sense. His hands wandered all over the sides of my body, traveling up my back and scraping downwards, blunt nails still making me shiver and twist under his grip. The kiss changed, becoming messier and less careful, hot breath shared amongst our lips as the music seemed to grow louder in the bathroom around us. My hands dropped from his face and I wrapped my arms around his neck instead, pulling him even closer. I knew I was a little drunk, but I was still aware of how I was touching Blaine. I wanted to push him against the wall, but I couldn't. I was scared it would remind him of the last person I wanted him to think of now, so I did the opposite of what he would do to him. I held him close. Our bodies fit so well together, it made it even better. My tongue circled his once more before we pulled apart, breathless and in awe of each other. My hand found his face again, stroking his cheek as he leaned into it, sighing happily.

"We could go back to your…office?" I smiled at him, watching him nuzzling into my hand.

"Yeah, let's do that." He finally replied and put his hand over mine, moving it away from his face and letting it drop to my side, where he linked our hands together. He led me out of the bathroom bashfully, waving a small wave towards the bartender. We exited the building, giggling and swinging our arms. I felt like a child. When you're a kid, you're always safe. Heartbreak barely exists and all your friends are people you know nothing about except the fact that they may prefer the train toy to the building blocks, so you always let them play with it, because you kind of like blocks anyway. He leaned into me as we waited to spot a taxi, his head on my shoulder while the snow falling wrapped around us, like a blanket without any warmth. He flagged down a taxi and we got inside, sitting close to each other as the city passed by us in a blur of greys and pops of color. My hand touched the window, trying to grab handfuls of buildings and crowds of people. I laughed into Blaine's shoulder, the taxi coming to a stop in front of the office building. Blaine paid and I barely noticed, I opened the door and stood on the sidewalk, my head turned upward to look at the building.

"Kurt, c'mon." I peeled my eyes away from the building and found Blaine staring at me from the doorway, laughing at my expression. I walked towards him and we headed into the building together, ignoring the interested looks from the front desk. We continued into the elevator, where we stayed on opposite sides, looking forward and tapping our feet impatiently. When the doors opened, Blaine motioned for me to go first, and I stepped out into the hallway. I looked back at him, noticing he was already steps ahead of me, standing at his door as he unlocked it. I took a deep breath and head over to the office door. I walked in and began to take off my jacket, trying to avoid the need to bite my lip. I put all my winter gear beside the door, unsure what I was supposed to do next. I turned my head, catching a blur of Blaine in the "bedroom." I watched as he sat down on the bed, peering at me through the doorway. There was no pressure, but there was a choice to be made. I would walk through the doorway and create a memory that I could never erase. This was a moment that I would carry with me always, that would change how I looked at sex and relationships for the rest of my life. There was no pressure, and that's how I made the choice. I walked over to him, my intentions romantic and wicked, a smirk finding its place on my lips. I put my legs on both sides of his, straddling his lap as he moved to lie down. I kissed him, but not on the lips first. I explored his neck with wet, opened mouthed kisses. I was careful with it, trying not to mark him. I wasn't looking to be possessive. I was looking to find a way to show him the better side of romance. This wasn't about dominating him, and as I realized I was on top and leading the way once again, I changed positions. My tipsy state of mind was wearing off, causing me to remember the thoughts I had been thinking of previously. Blaine was used to being pushed down, he was used to being dominated and used. It was clear in his words and his eyes. I wanted to give him something new. I didn't know his previous relationship experience, but I knew of what he had been through lately. This was going to be different. When I moved, I laid down on the bed beside him, pulling on his arm to signal I wanted him to be on top. He looked at me with confusion across his face, but I kept pulling until he moved. When he settled on top of me, I could see the apprehension in his movements, and I wondered what could stop him.

"Blaine…" He looked at me, "I want you to do what you don't get to do usually. I want this to be different." He exhaled and dropped his eyes from mine; his entire body going limp for a second causing it to touch mine completely without thought, his arousal becoming evident. "You can…you can do whatever you want to me."

"Fuck…" His eyes met mine. He shook his head, teeth grazing over his lip as he looked at me. "You've never done this before, have you?" He said it as he leaned closer to me, mouth right beside my ear. I whimpered.

"No."

"But you want to? You want me?" His words were sexy, but they came across as broken. I arched my body into him, to prove my desire. He needed this. He needed me. I was going to give him everything.

"I do want you." And then I whispered, "Take me. I'm yours." It was more than enough to reassure him. His fingers drifted underneath my shirt, pushing it upwards until I had to sit up for him to remove it. It was interesting, watching him look at me, as he touched my chest and stomach with wide eyes and large, dark pupils, his lips always somewhat parted. He trailed his mouth over my exposed skin, tongue running over a nipple, as his hands traveled lower to unbutton my pants. I barely moved, my body was aching with want, but I wanted him to do what he needed to more than anything else. He sat up, smiling down at me, as he removed my pants and his own shirt. I looked at his body in amazement, unable to fight back the urge to touch him. I let my palms slide down his chest, hearing him hum in delight before going back to learning my body. He slowly moved towards the lower half of me, his hands more careful as the touches drifted downward. He was teasing, fingers drawing a circle around my erection, causing my heart to race quicker than it had ever before. Blaine slid my briefs down my thighs and past my ankles, taking them and throwing them to the floor. I instantly felt self conscious. I had never been naked like this infront of anyone. But here I was, exposed. I thought of the faint scars on my arms and thighs, some darker than others, and squirmed a bit. Only some light was leaking through the curtains into the room, leaving the rest of the makeshift bedroom without light. As Blaine got up from his position above me, I wondered if he had spotted a mark. Instead, I eyed him as he took off his own pants and boxers. He stood there, hesitating before walking back to the bed.

"Are you okay?" I asked, sitting up just as he began to crawl back on top of me. We met halfway.

"I'm just worried you'll see something you don't like."

"I don't think that's possible." I leaned in and kissed him, "But if we don't do something soon, I might die."

"We don't want that to happen, do we?" Blaine replied, his hands pressing on my chest to flatten me on the bed. He lowered himself on me just right, causing our cocks to brush each other. I gasped, only to be quieted by Blaine's mouth. He kissed me messily, tongue pushing past my lips and swirling in my mouth, exploring it freely. He continued to press his hips into mine, his precum dripping onto my cock, making it easier for us to slide against each other. Blaine moaned, making me shiver beneath him. I needed to be closer than this. It felt good, but it wasn't enough.

"Blaine, could you-" I paused, the question caught in my throat. He stopped what he was doing and looked at me, waiting. "_Just fuck me._" His mouth opened as if he was going to respond, but he didn't. He leaned over me and came back with things in his hands that I couldn't see in the dark, I waited for something to happen. I was shaking nervously, knowing that this was it. I had said it, and I didn't want to take it back.

"Kurt, you need to relax." He kissed my thighs over and over, until my body somehow relaxed into his touch. My breathing slowed, heart rate still fast due to adrenalin, but everything felt so good that it didn't matter. I heard a bottle cap open and close, which I figured was lube. Blaine's hand verified that, grazing my entrance without warning. I started to get nervous again, but Blaine used his free hand to stop my shaking thigh. His other hand was busy, his finger forming a circle until slipping inside of me. I suddenly felt calm, my nervousness being replaced with want. Blaine continued fingering me, eventually adding another finger. I wanted more, grinding down into his hand the best I could, trying to tell him that I was eager to start.

"You want this so bad." He whispered. And I did, I did.

After a few minutes of me trying to get more out of him, he gave in. He sat up, opening the condom and rolling it onto himself. He took a deep breath.

"It's been so long since I've done this." He said it out loud, but I could tell it was mostly directed to himself. He held onto my hips, clenching his eyes shut as he pushed inside of me inch by inch, my body stretching and burning as I took him. I felt extremely alert, awakened to the thought that all of this was real, that for the first time I wasn't dreaming. It was an overwhelming thought, one I let go of to give myself the ability to feel what was happening. My mind went blank, my body barely under my own control as I threw my head back onto the pillow behind me, back arching into Blaine's suddenly confident thrusts. I could tell he was struggling, but not in the way I had expected. He was holding back. I reached out to him, hands running over the beads of sweat forming on his shoulder blades. I scratched down his back, long careful lines, grabbing his attention. Our eyes met. I looked at him, hoping that my eyes conveyed the only thought left in my mind, and I think it worked. He moaned then, increasing the speed and drag of his thrusts. I could feel him everywhere. He was under my skin, running through my veins, wrapped around my heart. His name was trapped in my throat, crawling to get out, my tongue fighting to keep it silent. It escaped, a jumble of letters accompanied by drawn out breaths. Once I started saying it, I couldn't stop. I kept saying his name as I began to lose myself in the full feeling of Blaine's cock inside of me. My thighs shook, toes curling, my orgasm building from head to toe. I removed my hands from Blaine's back and found his face, cradling his cheek in my hand the best I could as he moved quickly. I stilled him, his hips still moving slightly as we looked at each other. The light from the curtains shined across us, the sun beginning to set outside. We kissed. It was slow. Our tongues found each other right away, curling around each other and exploring. One of his hands made its way into my hair, grabbing and pulling as our kiss became less practiced and more in the moment. His tongue licked a line across my lips when we pulled apart, his hands slipping under my back and pushing for me to move. He slid out of me, sitting back and waiting. He helped me into position in his lap, our bodies reconnecting as I began to ride him. He leaned back, watching how I learned how I liked it best. He licked his lips and went in to kiss my neck. The change in position brought me even closer, my senses on overload. I liked the change in control, too, even if I could barely admit it to myself. I kept riding him with his eyes on me until it became too much, I stopped, my body shaking as my orgasm took control of me. I closed my eyes, feeling Blaine still moving inside of me while everything washed over me. I heard him say my name quietly, his hands holding me close. My eyes opened at the sound, watching him as he came, his hips pushing up into me a few more times before he fell back on the bed. I got up and collapsed beside him.

"So…" I began as I stared up at the speckled ceiling. "That's what sex feels like."

"Yeah." He was breathing unevenly, his voice coming out funny. "What did you think?"

"I think… that I want to do that every day." We both laughed. I rolled over and put my arms around him. I thought I felt a tear on my shoulder blade, but I fell asleep before I checked if he was crying. I was feeling too many things.  
The next morning I awoke second, looking around for my clothes and then realizing I had been wearing the same thing for going on three days. I sat there on the bed and gathered all the blankets to put around me. My body hurt in an unfamiliar way, I didn't want to move. I looked through the doorway and caught a glimpse of Blaine standing beside his desk. Smoke surrounded him as he moved across the room towards the window. I picked up some of the blankets and walked through the doorframe, stopping to take in the image of Blaine leaning out of the window with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"I didn't know that you smoke." I said. I said it in a way that sounded exactly like what I was thinking. How many things did I actually know about the man I just had sex with? Did I know anything at all?

"Just sometimes." He replied as he removed it from his mouth, blowing smoke around himself and towards the window. "I was addicted when I was your age. I thought it made me more interesting."

"What were you like when you were my age?" I paused, "How old are you?" He smiled and put the cigarette to his lips, inhaling and exhaling as he removed it again. He turned away from the window, grabbing a chair and putting it beside it so he could talk to me.

"I was very naïve. I slept around a lot. I thought that by trying everything I would be a better writer. I wanted to be famous." Blaine took a drag. "I'm twenty nine, thirty in four months. I got through college quickly, landed this job because of my parents."

"You seem so young." I said quietly, sitting down in a blanket heap on the floor. "You're not old or anything, honestly. The youngest out of my professors I think."

"I'm the youngest professor in the school. So, I'm sure of it." He laughed, taking a final drag and then putting out his cigarette.

"I wanted to be famous, too." I added, "Maybe I still do."

"I think you could do it." I smiled at him, shaking my head.

"I really have to go. I'm leaving today and they're closing the dorms." I got up, kissed him cheek, and went to get my clothes to put on. I heard a phone ringing, looked for mine to find it had been off all along, and got dressed as slowly as possible. I didn't want to leave. It was nice hiding here. I finished getting dressed and went over to the bathroom to fix my hair. I walked back towards Blaine and stopped, hearing him talking on the phone. I stood away from him and watched his expressions. He looked so sad in a twisted, happy way. There was smile on his face, one that didn't make any sense.

"I know, I know." I heard him say. "I'll be home soon. I love you, Scott." I knew the name, I knew who it was. I couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but I didn't need to hear anything but what I did to justify my anger. Angry tears began to form in my eyes as I turned towards the door, frustrated and confused. Why? Why did he say that and why did he smile when he did? Why did he look so happy when he talked to him? I put on my jacket and shoes. I reached for the doorknob, Blaine reaching for my shoulder at the same time.

"Hey, no goodbye?" I looked at him, the tears rolling down my cheeks in sync with the movement of my head. "What's wrong?"

"I heard you talking to him." I tried to open the door, he held it closed.

"Kurt…he's my husband, okay? I…I do love him."

"Are you fucking stupid? He hits you, Blaine. That is not someone you should love."

"Who should I love then Kurt?" I turned to face him as he trapped me against the door, his eyes searching mine for answers to questions that were so clear, so evident.

"Don't make me tell you who to love. I've already said too much."

"Just say it, Kurt." He was on top of me. I was too hot in my jacket, sweat forming on my forehead.

"You should love me, Blaine. Okay? Are you happy now? I need to go." I pushed him lightly away from me and went for the doorknob again. "Tell me that you want me to stay." I whispered, hoping after I said it that he didn't hear me. It was quiet. He kissed the back of my neck.

"I can't do that." And I took off. I took the stairs instead of the elevator. I took a taxi to my door, grabbed my bags, took another taxi, and then I got on a train because my heart was breaking. I got on a train because there was nothing left for me in Chicago. It was winter break and the snow filled air was warmer than the inside of my body. I was cold, I was heartbroken, and I was on a train going to a home that felt less safe than a stupid makeshift apartment hidden away in an office building. That was wrong. I was wrong. He was wrong. But when we were together, it felt right. And I decided then, with my head propped up against the train window, that I hated myself just as much as when I arrived in Chicago. I wondered if I would ever be okay again.

When I was five years old, my hiding place was in the backyard behind the bushes. When my dad and I would fight, I would climb back there until I calmed down. He never would look for me there, but I think he knew about it. Which was why when I was eight years old, I moved my hiding place to the storage room in my basement. I built a fort there, amongst boxes of old clothes and toys, and hid there anytime I felt like I needed to get away. After a few years, I grew too big for the small fort. I was twelve, and that's when I thought I was cool enough not to need a hiding place. And that went on for a few years, as I learned that I could easily lock myself in my bedroom when I wanted to hide. I became a pro at slamming bedroom doors, putting my head under a pillow, and screaming at the top of my lungs. I hid because I didn't understand myself, the circumstances, and my emotions. I hid because a part of me was always a child that needed a mother who wasn't there to tell me that I was normal. When I came out to my dad, things got better with time. I didn't need to hide anymore. I thought I didn't. But now, here I am on a train, thinking about how I wish I could be hiding away with Blaine. Thinking how maybe I never was a beautiful thing to be hidden away, maybe the inside of me was too ugly.


	3. Chapter 3

The train windows were dirty with fingerprints, making me wonder about who had sat in the seat that I currently sat in, who had struggled and who had sat there shaking with anticipation to arrive at their destination. I thought of people with traveling built into their hearts, and I touched my chest thinking that maybe I could be one of those people. With too much on my mind, I closed my eyes and fell into sleep. In my dream, I was made of smoke coming from Blaine's cigarette, evaporating as quickly as I appeared. And he couldn't hold me, we couldn't touch, and it was a lot like the current state of my life, if I wanted to interpret it.

I woke up in Ohio a few hours later. When I got off the train, I spotted my dad instantly. I didn't want him to see me like this, so I tried the best I could to mask my emotions. I wanted him to think that things had changed for the better. He deserved that.

"Kiddo!" He gave me a hug, reminding me that I did have one last safe place left in the world, in my father's arms.

"Hey, Dad. How are you?" I smiled as big as I could while we walked over to the baggage claim, hoping that when we got in the bright light of the station that I didn't look like a complete wreck.

"I'm fine. It's chaotic at the house, it being so close to Christmas. You know Carole, always thinkin' she needs to impress everyone with the decorations. It's hard not having you around for that stuff." He put his arm around me, rubbing my arm. "How about you? How's the windy city treatin' ya?"

"It's…it's really great. It's not New York, but it's something." I watched him as he took a long look at me, a smile stretching across his face.

"It's good to have ya back, kiddo." He reached over and ruffled my hair, and for a moment, lying felt like it was worth it.

After the long drive home, it was time for a late dinner. A ton of my family members were already over for the holidays, making everything a lot more difficult than I had anticipated. I spent a lot of time escaping outside, wishing that I had taken up smoking to have a better excuse. I thought of Blaine briefly, the romantic swirl of cigarette smoke escaping his lips. The first ones I had kissed and meant it. I sat on the porch steps, breathing in a way that created fog from the cold. I heard the front door creak open but tried to ignore whoever had tried to follow me by staring off into space.

"Kurt, can I ask you a question?" The voice belonged to my aunt Jennifer, the only one of my mother's relatives that still frequently visited after my father remarried. She was young, stunning, and interesting. I usually enjoyed her company, but she had a way of figuring me out that was intimidating. As I grew older, I strayed away from her more and more by the year. It was like she could see right through me. It reminded me of my mother.

"Yeah." I answered unwillingly, moving over as she sat down beside me.

"Who broke your heart?"

"Goddamnit." I looked away from her, "Why would you think that?"

"Listen, Kurt. We both know I seem to get you better than anyone else in this family. And do you want to know why? It's your eyes." She smiled, "I can always tell from your eyes how you're feeling. There's something there that makes sense to me, it helps me understand you. I think Lizzy would like that." I cringed at my mother's name, not out of disgust, but it always gave me this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. Especially lately, I knew that I wasn't doing her any justice. I wasn't the son she raised me to be in the short amount of time she had to make an impact. I was a mess, and Jennifer saw that.

"His name is Blaine." I finally said. His name wasn't easy to hear out loud either. I felt my eyes getting heavier as tears weighed them down. I was tired, tired of crying, tired of being unhappy, and tired of not being the Kurt I had always promised myself I would be. "It's…it was stupid. I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you sure?" She looked at me with more concentration, "Are you sure it was stupid?"

"No." I felt smaller than ever as she spoke to me, shrinking like Alice trying to get in the door to wonderland. Shrinking like clothes in the dryer. Getting smaller and smaller until there's nothing. Just bits of me left as remains. I covered my face with my hands. "It was only a few days and I could tell that it was everything. It could have never been nothing." I felt Jennifer's hand on my back, her head against my shoulder.

"You have to fight for it. If it's everything, you can't let it become nothing." I guess she was right. But I couldn't fight the need to get up and away from her. I excused myself silently and went inside, passing the room full of people eating dinner and going up to my bedroom. I locked the door and went over to my suitcase to unpack. My phone sat on my bed, the screen lit, I reached over and picked it up. It was him. Of course it was him. I looked at his name, my eyes blurring as I focused harder and harder on the letters. I had five text messages and three unanswered calls from him. I didn't know what that could mean. I opened a text message and saw what I needed to see, five words: I wanted you to stay.

The next morning I woke up without Blaine on my mind. I was thinking about home. Thinking about how my room didn't change a bit while I was gone. Even my pillows and blankets smelled the same. I thought about my father and how I tried to keep him out of everything. I didn't want to be that son. I wanted to be better. I looked at the clock, noticing I had woken up earlier than planned and snuck downstairs quietly. The house was overly silent, just the hum of the fridge and the buzz of electronics still plugged in from the previous day. I looked through the cupboards and found all the ingredients I needed. I began to cook breakfast for everyone, not even thinking about cooking healthy. I wanted my family to be happy; I wanted to feel that in a room with everyone. I started to make waffles and pancakes, searching for bacon for a side and oranges to make fresh juice. I got everything together and began stacking tall plates of the items I made. I accomplished something. It had been awhile. Soon the stairs were creaking as people noticed the smell of food cooking and the dining room began to fill. I set the table and watched my family slowly awaken to the idea that I did this. They rubbed their eyes and smiled all around, whispering about me. I leaned against the refrigerator, tired and proud. I could see him in the corner of my eye before I acknowledged him.

My stepbrother was and is the biggest idiot I have ever met. But he isn't annoying, he's the kind of guy that you know isn't the brightest but you still feel warm when you talk to him, warmer than you would talking to a normal person. That's just how he is. He says stupid things sometimes but he can also be the most caring individual I know. He stood there looking at me, a goofy grin stretching across his face.

"You did good, bro. Haven't seen Burt so happy in months." Finn finally spoke up, walking past me to grab a glass from the cupboard. "I know things have been shitty for you. We all know it. But the worst part has been seeing you fake that things aren't shitty. Just…let things be shitty. Ya know? Like, stop pretending that you're happy when you aren't. It makes things harder on the old man." He elbowed me, breaking my stare contest with the wall. I nodded at him, taking a deep breath.

"I am happy. I'm happy right now."

"Go out there. They're all waiting for you." He disappeared into the dining room, and I stood there unsure if I should go. I gathered my courage and opened the door, standing before my lively and laughing family members. My dad looked up from his plate and smiled at me, the only one targeting me in any way. I smiled back, walking over to the empty chair beside him and taking a seat. I filled my plate while listening to the conversations around me, trying to contribute here and there with comments. I liked the old familiar feeling of making someone laugh, it rushed through me and I thought of hurricanes and how maybe with this kind of fuel, I really was one.

"How do you feel right now, Kurt?" My father asked on the last day of winter break, as I packed my suitcase and laughed at Jennifer trying on my clothes. He entered the room and cleared his throat, Jennifer shyly ducking out as I continued packing. He coughed again, making me turn and look at him. "You didn't answer my question."

"Dad, you know that I'm doing well." I smiled at him. I was. I had started dressing like myself again, doing my hair, laughing like I used to. The break had helped. My family had carried me through the struggle.

"But are you gonna keep it up? Don't lie to me this time."

"How did you know I was lying?" He laughed, walking towards my bed and sitting at the foot of it. I looked at him as his hands flattened out the comforter beneath

"Kiddo, I can read you like a book. You're my son. It's what I do." I sat down beside him.

"If you can read me so well, why didn't you say something before?" My father sighed, wrapping an arm around me.

"I had to let you figure things out yourself, Kurt. You're an adult now." He smiled, "As much as I hate to admit it." He began to get up to leave, but I stopped him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

"Do you trust me?" I asked him, rushing the words out of my throat, nervous for an answer. I had wanted to ask this for awhile. I wanted to know if this entire thing with Blaine would be something my father wouldn't allow, something that he wouldn't trust me with. Jennifer had told me to fight for him, but what would my dad think? How would he feel knowing I slept with a married man? I tugged on my own sleeves. The thought was too much, enough for a relapse.

"Of course I do." I turned away from him, biting my lips to hold back the tears forming. "What is this about, Kurt?"

"You said you trusted me, right?" I inhaled hard, "Well… I'll tell you when I'm ready, okay?" He stood in the doorframe, considering it, before nodding slowly.

"Okay." He half whispered. I got on the train the next day.

The office building was the same as it was before I left. The city felt the same. Nothing had changed. Or had it? Did I change? I looked down at my wrists, the faded scars peeking out from under my sleeves. Entering the building could easily be interpreted as me asking to mess up the streak I had going, but it was more than that. I went for the door handle, prepared to walk straight through and to the elevator.

"Kurt?" I turned around, my eyes searching for him. He was on my left side, walking down the street with a cardboard box in his arms. One of his eyes was bruised, but he still looked beautiful with the newly fallen snow covering his dark curls. I smiled at him, walking towards him. He put the cardboard box down and pulled me into a hug. I felt relief wash over me, happiness trickling through my veins as he held me tighter. "It's so good to see you."

"Yeah." I said, a little breathless and starry eyed, we stood there looking at each other. Unsure how to begin.

"Let's go inside. We should talk."

It was silent up until the door closed behind us, a brief click enclosing us in our secret space. The room wasn't the same as I had left it; many cardboard boxes covered the floor, the bed was gone, and papers were scattered about. Two empty wine bottles sat on the window sill, stealing my attention, I walked over to them. I picked one up, looking at the label, Blaine leaned against the wall – waiting.

"What's with the boxes?" I finally spoke up, he looked away from me.

"I got my own place." Blaine went to sit down in a chair by the window, motioning for me to do the same. I put the wine bottle down and sat looking at him, my fingers itching to touch him. I rolled my chair forward so our knees touched. He flinched momentarily, biting his lip and looking towards the window. "It got really bad at home with Scott. I tried to make it work, but…" He turned back to look at me, "He punched me in the face one night. That's where I drew the line." Blaine motioned at his bruised eye. His hands were shaking.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine." I could have said I told you so, that he should have just loved me like I said, but instead I only could feel sympathy. I wanted to have him in my arms, but I couldn't tell where we stood. "So…are you…getting divorced?"

"Not yet. Soon, I think." His hand touched my knee, "But enough about that. What about this?"

"Are we even a 'this'? It was only a few days." He smiled softly. His hand moved up my leg a bit further before he withdrew it.

"I guess you're right. What if we were something though?" Blaine replied, looking down and then back up at me through his lashes. I focused on his eyes. They seemed to get darker and darker every time I blinked, from honey brown to chocolate, to something darker that only reminded me of black coffee. It was oddly comforting, looking at him like that. I licked my lips.

"I never said we weren't something. We definitely weren't nothing." We both smiled at each other. "I really like you, Blaine." He shook his head at me, opening his mouth and not being able to find his voice. His eyes grew softer, sadder, and he took my hands in his.

"I like you. I do. But I'm not sure…" He paused, "I'm not sure if this is safe for you or even if I'm good for you." He held my hands tighter as his eyebrows scrunched together, "Kurt…am I good for you?"

"I like to think you are. I like to think that I could be good for you, too. I want to be, anyway." There was an unspoken tension between us. It was obvious Blaine was holding something back. I tried to stare hard enough to see through him, but it wasn't working. I glanced at the bottles on the windowsill, tasting defeat on the tip of my tongue. Slowly, Blaine dropped my hands; he stood up and ran his hands through his hair.

"I don't get it. I don't. Kurt, why don't you hate me?" He picked up a pile of papers from the floor, gripping them tightly with his fingers. "I fucked you and then told someone else I loved them the very next morning. I didn't tell you to stay and I didn't try to make you feel better. I'm an asshole. I'm a fucking asshole and you're sitting here telling me that you like me. Don't you see the problem here?" He dropped the papers, and I watched as they fell to the floor around him. He collapsed into the mess, pulling his knees to his chest. I got up from my chair and walked to him, kneeling in the disarray of papers. My eyes caught some of the words written and typed across each piece, my breath catching as I spotted my name. Without thinking, I took the paper into my hands. Blaine reached to stop me, but I brushed him off. I began to read it with my lower lip caught in between my teeth, my mind racing.

_I found an angel today, his wings were missing. And this angel, he worried so much that if someone were to notice his wings were clipped they wouldn't love him. I took him to the hiding place, ready to keep my discovery a secret, but the sun still found him and kept him glowing. He was too beautiful for four walls, and I was too ugly for anything more. I told him who I was and why I was that, so he touched me with healing palms and the sun disappeared. Everything was darker, heavier; his eyes were a shade below what they once were. My heart twisted, sunk, fell to pieces because I had done that, I had broken an angel. I thought of Christmas, the angels surrounding the manger, the glass figurines that were off limits through my childhood and soon I was pushing him out the door. I watched him walking down the street as he made his exit, the glow returning to his cheeks, and his wings reappearing._

I looked over at Blaine, tears rolling down my face as I rummaged through the other papers, finding that many of them were just like this, titled with my name or anything similar. All of them were about me. He dropped to his knees and crawled towards me through the mess of words circling us. Our knees bumped together before he extended his arm to wipe the tears from my face. He became so close to me that our foreheads met, and a tear from his own eyes found its way to my nose.

"You think you ruined me?" I managed to say, my voice cracking. "You can't ruin a person in that short of a time, can you?"

"Oh, Kurt." Blaine closed his eyes, tears dropping from them, "You can ruin a person in less than a minute. You don't even need a day."

"But you think that? You think that you did that to me?" I questioned him and he nodded, my tears coming back and my lip finding its way back between my teeth. I lifted my hand to his face, cradling it like I had been dying to, and tried to get myself together. "You're not an asshole, Blaine. You're a beautiful, beautiful soul. I wish you could feel that. I wish you could believe me." And Blaine kept crying, beginning to shake his head along with it, the water dropping onto my face and making me shiver. I leaned over and kissed him lightly, shocking him at first before he melted into it, his eyes fluttering as a faint moan escaped from his mouth. We continued for a brief moment, eventually disconnecting as he moved into my open arms. It felt like a hug at first, but eventually his head found its way to my shoulder, his legs sprawled amongst the clutter of papers. He sniffled into my shoulder, slowly coming down from his anxiety. "Shhh, it's okay. You're a good person, a great one; don't let anyone tell you different. Don't listen to him, don't listen to yourself. Listen to me right now, alright? I want you to think of this moment when you start thinking like this." I picked up a sheet of paper and showed it to him, putting it back down beside me. "But don't let that discourage you from writing, either. That was gorgeous, I promise." Blaine smiled underneath his tears.

"You know, you can sometimes fall for someone in less than a minute." He spoke up as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, leaning into me even more. For that, I only could hold him closer.


	4. Chapter 4

The moon was above us, high and mighty in the sky, the craters on its surface reminding me of all of the marks that made me. As I looked over at Blaine, his now healed eye reflecting triumph, I thought that maybe marks made him too. And though our scars may have been inflicted upon us in different ways, they still told stories.

I reached for his hand and he gripped mine back with enthusiasm. The grass below us was finally free of snow for a change, even though the month was nearing February, winter had calmed. Classes had started again, and I once anticipated them to be awkward, but instead I found myself getting more relaxed into college life. Blaine helped me with my homework and encouraged me to meet people, but I kept to myself. My roommate slowly became interested in me, yet I couldn't seem to return the sudden curiosity. He asked questions as we grew to know each other's habits, and I tried to answer them. He told me I seemed happier, which was something that brightened the impression I already had had of him. I was slowly falling in love with my major, too. As I dug deeper and learned more, it felt like it was my first choice instead of my second. But nothing felt as good as being by Blaine's side on nights like the one before us. And though I hated myself for doing this, I couldn't feel it, not in that moment.

Beyond handholding, there wasn't much. I didn't want to push or pry, but I was suddenly desperate for his touch. So, I looked up at the moon, I wished on the stars surrounding it, and I leaned in to kiss him. His body jolted back, surprised by my lips, yet he kissed back. I could feel that it wasn't as sure, that he was only using half the effort I could remember.

"Why do you keep doing that?" I asked him quietly as we started walking. He was a few steps ahead, turning his head back to look at me searching for an answer. There had been no sex, no kissing, and no visits to his new apartment. It had all been secret meetings at far away coffee places, underrated bookstores, and his favorite bench in the park. It was okay, at first. Then a part of me realized that there was no point to any of it, that we could easily be within the walls of his apartment, spending time together without any reservations. He stopped on the sidewalk. I wouldn't have notice the corners of his mouth rising, but the moon highlighted him just enough to see the smile forming.

"You're so…" He clicked his tongue, "oblivious. Not in a bad way, oh God, don't think that, but in a shy, innocent, and sweet way. It's refreshing. Don't punch me in the face."

"I'm not going to punch you." Oh, but my hands were clenched into fists. I felt too young and too stupid. "Am I not the right age for you now? Overly innocent and it's freaking you out? 'Cause I fucking get it, I look like a cherub. I'm not stupid."

"What? No." He shook his head and walked towards me. "You're just oblivious to what is in front of you. What I'm…going through." I rolled my eyes, sighing.

"Do tell. What could you be going through now?"

"Don't you get it? Intimacy isn't easy after you are abused, Kurt. It was never making love, it was never soft kisses. It was rough, all of it. I put up it with it because I thought I deserved it. I still think I might. And that's not you, and I don't want to ask that from you. I don't want to tell you to hurt me, because I shouldn't want that and you shouldn't do that. Not after what I've been through. I'm trying to be an adult. I'm trying to be smart about everything, trying to be careful. Does that all make sense?"

"Blaine, do you trust me?" I bit my lip, I looked in his eyes and shivered, "Do you look at me like I'm a kid or like an equal?"

"Maybe I haven't been thinking correctly." I nodded slowly, his answer weighing my mind down, everything feeling heavy. I walked a little, finding myself beside where he was standing. I turned my head, and thought it over once more.

"Yeah, maybe you haven't." I felt him tug at my arm. His hand slipped between us and grabbed mine. I stood there motionless, so tired and feeling young for the first time in awhile. This mask I had made, that I had been adding to each time I was with Blaine, was suddenly faulty. I touched my face, stubble and wrinkle free. I wasn't old, I was barely an adult. My life experience was only a fragment of a whole; it was a tiny piece of glass broken from a vase: reflective, colorful, important, but small. It would leave a gap in my life if it never happened, but it wasn't everything. I had many more pieces left to break. Blaine squeezed my hand three times and I looked at him. I worried that I looked teary-eyed and lost, because that's how I felt. It didn't seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter, not when his eyes searched mine, looking for information carried in the waves of blue my eye held. He smiled again, always at the oddest moments, and I smiled back. "I am young."

"That doesn't make you any less interesting." His voice was like a song, melodic and smooth as honey. "Do you want to go back to my apartment, tonight?"

"I'm not looking for sympathy." I rubbed my lips together, "I could go for a coffee, but I mostly would like some dessert."

"Maybe that's what I was offering?" Blaine arched an eyebrow and laughed, "Let's go."

Over a cup of coffee and a slice of cheesecake, I looked up and realized it was probable that I was falling in love with Blaine Anderson. And for that, I didn't hate myself.

"Kurt! Kurt, wake up!" My roommate awoke me with his hands shaking my frame, his eyes wild. I could smell the smoke before I spotted the fire rising across the hall. Our door was already opened, exposing the flames that were engulfing one of our neighbor's doors. "We need to get out of here." I couldn't remember my roommates name, not then, not when my pulse was quickly accelerating and my head was pounding from it all. Fear filled me quicker than anything I had ever felt, and it led me out of the room faster than I ever could have escaped on my own. Fear stood in as a crutch, my hand gripping my shaking roommate's hand as we went through the maze of hallways. I stopped suddenly, breathless, my eyes looking to my right to see a fire extinguisher. I glanced at my roommate and back at the wall, breaking the glass case with little afterthought. I started running back with him trailing behind me with protests under his breath. The hallway was now filled with flames; I raised the extinguisher unsurely and began to use it. I had no idea what I was doing, but it slowly began to work. As the fire fighters arrived minutes after, they were shocked at what I had done. They investigated a bit to find a boy in the corner of the room where the fire had started, burned slightly and coughing. As they escorted us out, one of the fire fighters leaned into my ear and said: _"You saved him." _And I have to say that my first thought was not of the boy on the stretcher in front of me, but a man that as far as I knew was sitting on the floor of his apartment with a nice glass of wine watching the world move around him from his picture window.

I was proven wrong. After the EMTs checked me out to make sure I was okay, I climbed out of the back of the ambulance to see a familiar pair of eyes in the crowd. He looked different, wearing sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt. His smile was the same as ever, hardly any teeth but reflected in his eyes.

"I was watching the news and I saw your dorm and I pretty much ran here. I'm so glad you're okay, Kurt." Blaine pulled me in for a hug, squeezing me in his arms. "I also hear you're a hero, but I find that hard to believe because you're not wearing a cape."

"I just did what I thought was right." I breathed to him, voice rusty from inhaling the smoke.

"And that makes you a better person than a lot of people. I hope you know that." He touched my hair, my face, my neck. "Why don't you stay with me tonight?"

"Okay." I whispered to him. He grabbed my hand and we started to walk away from the building, my roommate – Wes, I finally remembered – called out to me.

"Kurt! I wanted to say that what you did was amazing. I'll never forget that…Do you have a place to stay tonight? My parents live close to here if you need it." I smiled at the thought, and then raised Blaine and I's hands.

"I'm set. But thank you for the offer, it means a lot." Wes took notice that someone was beside me and a grin spread across his face, he backed away, leaving Blaine and I to walk in peace. While we walked, I started thinking about fire. I thought that after I put it out, maybe now it lived inside of me. Maybe it was growing, extending throughout my body until it all is touched by the flame. Maybe I had found myself. Like a phoenix, my soul had risen from the ashes restored. The scars were just tiny blemishes now, and something within me felt newly replaced. I told all of this to Blaine as we made it to his apartment. He laughed under his breath.

"You are so unique." I took that as a compliment straight to my heart, knowing that I would hold on to those words for a long time, just because of the tone in his voice. We climbed flights of stairs together, stopping in front of a red door. He looked back at me before unlocking it, letting me go in before him. I stood there and took it in, the floor was covered in paper yet again, but it stacks towered high like the Chicago skyscrapers. The lights were off, but it didn't feel dark. I had imagined it almost exact; the window in the living room was huge. It showcased the city skyline perfectly while lighting the room up with the light shining off of the buildings. It covered my skin in reds, blues, greens, and whites. Blaine pressed my back against the chilled glass, making the lights shine on his face as he kissed my lips softly. We separated right after, clearing our throats. I sat down on the sofa with my legs crossed as Blaine made me a cup of tea. He hummed and sang to himself while the water boiled, pouring himself some cereal and singing between bites. I closed my eyes and listened to him sing.

_So keep your head up, keep your love  
keep your head up, my love _

He handed me my tea and I sipped it as he fell asleep on the floor, his cereal bowl beside him. I couldn't sleep that night. My body was too hot from the fire inside of me and my throat too raw from the smoke. I whispered the lyrics he sang over and over until I was sure I was becoming a broken record, and I watched every single car that passed. For a change, I didn't wish that I was inside of one of them, because I didn't want to be anywhere else. Not this time.

I was lucky that the next day was a Saturday. I slept throughout the day in Blaine's bed with him beside me on his laptop, typing away. I awoke a few times and glanced at his screen, only catching fragments of sentences. I watched as the page numbers increased with every time I opened my eyes again. When I decided I had enough sleep he was at twenty three pages and on his sixth large cup of coffee. His fingers shook as his typed, his feet wiggling at the end of the bed. I cuddled into him and let him continue, giving him peace and quiet. He soon decided he wanted a break, and we both got up to shower. We laughed as we realized we both wanted to do the same thing, our hands on the doorknob on top of each other.

"We could take it together?" Blaine asked gently, and I responded by opening the door for the both of us. We waited for it to heat up by removing each other's clothes. I wasn't shy, or I tried not to be, but he was hesitant. I tried to kiss away all of the things that were holding him back. We got in, trying to figure out the best way for the two of us to fit. He grabbed me by the arms and I wrapped myself around him under the spray. We stood there without moving for more than a minute, when he began to hum the same song again. I let go to grab the shampoo I spotted, putting it on my palm to rub it into Blaine's hair. He smiled at me as I started to wash his hair for him, still humming happily. He rinsed out the shampoo so I could condition it, and then switched our roles so he was washing my hair. I swayed as he sang to me, giving up humming to find the words in his throat. He finished up my hair, giving me the opportunity to get the body wash. I put it on the loofa hanging on the knob and we handed it back and forth, washing each other and stopping for kisses. There was no way for me not to be turned on, but I enjoyed the simplicity of what we were doing. I knew Blaine wasn't ready to go back to what we once had done, and that was okay with me. This was okay. It was more than okay. I watched the curve of his back as he turned off the shower, grabbing us both towels. He found me a tooth brush and let me get cleaned up, even giving me some clothes to wear. I left them untouched for awhile, just sitting on his bed in a towel as he scavenged the fridge for food. He came up with nothing but a cell phone in his hand and an order of Japanese takeout. He kissed me on the face over and over before leaving to go pick it up and I laid back on the bed with my eyes focused on the ceiling. I stared at it so long that it became a giant blur, as did my thoughts. Eventually I peeled my eyes away to get dressed before Blaine got back, slipping on a pair of his jeans and a worn out t-shirt. He arrived only a moment after I accepted how I looked in the mirror, his hands full of bags of food. I arched an eyebrow at him and he shushed me. Soon a platter of sushi was laid out before me, with plates and chopsticks. I blushed at the sight of chopsticks, hoping for a fork instead.

"Sushi is my weakness." Blaine said, picking up the chopsticks and a plate. He began to grab pieces to cover the plate, waiting for me to do the same.

"I don't know how to use chopsticks." I told him, shrugging my shoulders downward, a little bit defeated and embarrassed.

"It's okay! I'll teach you." He smiled goofily, breaking the wood to separate the chopsticks and showing me his form. He handed me a pair, urging me to copy him, but my fingers couldn't reflect what his were doing. Blaine laughed and took my hand in his, explaining which fingers to use, and trying to create the form for me. After a few tries, I set the chopsticks down with a sigh, looking over to see Blaine filling up another plate. "You can't give up." So, I kept trying, ignoring my stomach rumbling loudly to focus on what I was doing. Blaine looked up again right at the moment I decided to venture into grabbing a piece of sushi, hoping I finally mastered it. I heard Blaine happily say, "Good job, Kurt!" Before I noticed that the chopsticks were working for me. With extra attention, I filled my plate, even grabbing a few kinds I would never have tried before. I wanted to be adventurous. It was silly that something as small as chopsticks could make me think that way, but the fire was still alive in my chest, eating away at the parts of me that had grown out of the self loathing that had stemmed from my rejection from NYADA. The new me had some words to say. The words were nothing too complicated at the surface, words thrown around and used with so little tied to them. That should have made it easy to say, but it wasn't. With Blaine's coffee (with cream and sugar) eyes focused on me, I could only part my lips. The day continued, heavy and wordless, with Blaine trying to get me to dance with him in the living room. I stepped on his feet due to my nerves, but we laughed it off. His laugh always made my stomach settle, my hands calm, and my breathing steady. That could be why I wanted to say those words, but on top that there were a million other reasons and all of them were so clear with every glance I looked at him.

"Blaine?" We paused in our dancing. He looked at me like he had thoughts rattling in his head.

"Kurt, I need to tell you something." I thought that maybe this was it. Maybe he was stealing the words from the tip of my tongue to say himself. I took in a sharp breath and waited. "I got a job offer, and I'm leaving next year."

"You're leaving me?" I didn't choke up; I didn't think I was going to cry. I only stared at him, eyes blurring until he became a blur like the ceiling was earlier. He shook his head and smiled, only with his mouth; his eyes were flat and echoed the sadness that was deep in my heart.

"I want you to come with me." Blaine cradled my chin, drawing me close to his lips. "It's in New York." He breathed against me, lips still hovering. "Your dreams can come true."

"I don't know what my dreams are anymore." I sighed, "Right now, I think I only know one thing."

"What?" If I didn't know any better, I would think Blaine was younger than me, especially in that moment. Everything about him was suddenly softer, more innocent, and fragile. It was like when I read his poem about me, but without the tears. There was no sadness on full display, but hope. Hope that I only ever saw in children when they talked about Santa Clause, and sometimes in ministers as they rambled on about God. He was hopeful, and that was the most delicate thing in the world.

"I love you." Then he kissed me. He kissed me so hard that I thought I was going to fall backwards, but he caught me. He always seemed to. My word choice was precise, the difference between that and 'I'm in love with you' was a big one, one that I wasn't sure of. I knew that there was so way I couldn't not love him after the intimate moments we had shared. I also knew that I felt him everywhere all the time, especially in my heart, always there. I bet I seemed silly, so young, so naïve. I didn't think he would want to say the words back, I really didn't.

"I love you too." He whispered, I think he was afraid. I kissed the fear away, or at least I tried.

Right before we fell asleep that night, Blaine laid his head on my chest. "What does it mean to you? Love?"

"Is there any way to explain it? If you think about it, there are so many stories, poems, songs, movies about it. None of them can fully capture it; it's too much of a feeling for anyone to understand completely. Don't you think?"

"I think love is simpler than we give it credit for, actually. Love is all in the eyes, it's lost within the butterflies you get from a kiss, it's caring so fucking much for someone that you'd give up your most precious belongings. You look at someone and you see love. They don't have to do anything to prove it to you, they shouldn't have to. Roses, jewelry, hallmark holidays, all of that is for the people without faith in love. I don't have to watch a movie or hear the songs. Maybe there isn't a way to describe it, but I can understand it. I can look in your eyes and know everything I needed to know." I got quiet for awhile, thinking about what he said and mentally checking with myself that I had done the right thing by telling him how I felt. He closed his eyes, and spoke with them that way, "Did I say too much? I know it's been a short time, and it's weird of me to be the outspoken one about this, because I'm older. I've known for so long that I could love you, Kurt. I knew when we were on Navy Pier before Christmas break. Like I said, I only had to look at you. I mean it."

"You didn't say too much. You said everything I wished I knew how to say myself." His eyes didn't open, and I realized that he was sleeping. I closed my eyes, too, and I dreamed about New York for the first time since the rejection letter. I had previously pictured it glitzy and glamorous, but this dream was realistic. The streets were dirty; the air polluted, the streets littered with all kinds of people instead of exclusively the rich and famous, among them all was Blaine and I. We had our hands intertwined with cheap clothes and a cheap bottle of wine. It was more than enough. I hoped that I always could see that.

I went back to my dorm the next day to check out the damage. I had Blaine's clothes on and a million left over kisses on my mouth from our exaggerated goodbye. I lucked out and there wasn't much damage on any of my belongings, but the dorm seemed to be unusable. Wes arrived shortly after I did, explaining that he talked to people and found out that the dorms were full, so they couldn't put us in a new one. The school had written us both a letter, explaining about reimbursements for the little damage we did have. We both were going to get paid back in full for our dorm expenses as well, because of the 'service' we had done for the school. Wes laughed at that, saying he didn't do much, but I reminded him that he was my moral support.

"Want to get lunch and go pick up some boxes? I'm meeting a few of my friends at this great place by an office supply store, and we have to pack up the room. They'd love to meet you, everyone has heard about what you did." Wes offered, something I usually would refuse, I reminded myself that I was done with being that person. I needed to branch out, to stop hiding.

"That sounds great." I said it with a smile, one that I meant.

The restaurant turned out to be more like a café, artsy and well decorated. Wes waved at his friends after entering, two boys and a blonde sitting at a table near the back. My heart began to race as I became nervous, but I was welcomed quickly with hellos and smiles.

"Kurt, this is Nick, Jeff, and Quinn." Wes gestured at each of them before we sat down; I looked around at my surroundings before tuning in to the conversation. We all ordered coffee and what was more like brunch than anything. But they all assured me that the food was terrific.

"So, Kurt, what are your plans for the future? You're majoring in journalism, right?" Quinn asked, leaning into me over her coffee mug. I took a sip of my own before biting my lip.

"I'm not sure. I'm really interested in fashion journalism. Actually, I…" I cut myself off, blushing a little bit as I realized what I was about to say, "I might move to New York next year. I have to look into finding a school first."

"New York is wonderful. I visit there a lot; one of my dear friends lives there and is studying musical theatre."

"Don't censor yourself, Quinn. Everyone knows about who your 'dear friend' really is." Nick, the brown haired one out of the two boys, spoke up. He sported a cheesy grin that Quinn was eager to wipe off with a glare.

"Okay, okay. My 'dear friend' is really my girlfriend, Rachel." Quinn clarified, rolling her eyes at Nick, causing Jeff and Wes to laugh.

"Wait…this is probably a coincidence, but you're not talking about Rachel _Berry _are you?" I questioned, thinking of all the times back in high school I had spent with the obnoxiously talented girl, who tended to be my other half. I had lost contact with her after she was accepted in to NYADA, leaving me in Ohio to fend for myself. I knew that wasn't what she intended, yet my state of mind at the time allowed myself to think that.

"You know Rach? Whoa, you're the Kurt she talks about? She always is going on about how she misses you and all of your high school adventures. She never told me you went to Chicago, though." The food arrived as she finished, giving Kurt a minute to process the connection.

"I didn't tell a lot of people. I had a hard time after I didn't get in to NYADA. I know now though that it's a good thing I didn't." I smiled, picking up my fork and taking a bite of my omelet.

"Aw, is it 'cause you never would have met your boyfriend?" Wes giggled beside me, looking over and raising his eyebrows.

"Precisely."

"Who's your boyfriend? Would we know him?" Jeff piped up through a mouthful of food, and I couldn't contain my laugh.

"You might, but he isn't a student at U of C." I took another bite, taking notice of how good the food actually was, "Or at all." I added, smirking a bit.

"Ooh, older man, huh?" Quinn jumped in, and I winked at her. Everyone laughed, and for a change, I felt comfortable with people my own age.

Later, Wes and I packed up the dorm when my phone rang. I excused myself and took it out in the hallway.

"Hey Dad," I said, smiling in to the phone, "Did you get my email?" I sent him a message about the fire when I was up the other night; not wanting to call him so late when there was nothing to worry about.

"Yes I did, I'm so glad you are okay. I'm really proud of you, kid." He cleared his throat, and I could feel him already getting choked up. "Do you know where you're going to be staying instead? Do you need me to send you some money?"

"The dorms are full, but I…I have a place."

"Where?" My father questioned, and I pondered the thought of telling him everything. I couldn't, not on the phone. I could only say so much.

"Remember when I said I wanted to tell you something but it wasn't the right time? Do you think you could make a trip out here next month? There's somebody I want you to meet." I listened to him sigh and carry on the silence.

"Sounds like a plan." He broke his silence, and he healed the burden on my back.

After Wes had left, Blaine arrived to help me with the boxes. We got a taxi and went back to his place, where he let me have a drawer or two and space in his closet. I was happily overwhelmed with the idea of living with Blaine every day. He cooked dinner that night while I told him about my day meeting new people. I told him stories about Rachel, ones that made me cry while I described them, and stories that made me laugh so hard my stomach hurt. We discussed my dad visiting, acting out the scenario while praying he would understand. My heart told me everything would be okay. I had to listen to it.

After that, we went on his laptop together and looked at schools in New York. I decided on a few schools that I would look in to more, and I also found a couple internships to apply for. I printed applications as Blaine told me about his new job. He was done with being a professor for the time being, and was going to focus on his writing. He had picked up a job at a popular publishing company, and they had agreed that during his time there he was able to submit his own writing to be reviewed. The opportunity sounded incredible, and as we shut off the laptop to go to bed I told him how proud I was to call him mine.

I was and I am. He was forbidden, of course he was, but all the best things are. Not all beautiful things are hidden, either. I know that because his eyes tell me so. They tell me all I will ever need to know.


	5. Epilogue

**AN:/** I started this story to challenge me to write more than I was used to, and I definitely fulfilled that even if it took me a lot of time. I wrote this for me, but I want to give it to you guys - whoever reads this - and I hope it made you feel something. Thank you for reading!

There was a coffee stained napkin, an ash tray full of cigarette butts, and three large stacks of papers that Blaine had made me promise not to touch scattered across the kitchen counter. He was sitting out on the balcony, his laptop in front of him and the city moving underneath him, even though it was nearly pitch black, similar to the contents in my coffee cup. I watched him through the curtains, tapping his cigarette and scratching at his beard, obviously having a hard time with his work. I sighed blissfully, getting up and falling back into our bed with a smile on my face. He was beautiful, from the outside all the way to the inside of him, his mind a deep ocean swimming with characters, plot lines, and prose. He said the most gorgeous things, mostly with little thought, and every phrase would stick to me. I would think about his words each night before I fell asleep, or when I was daydreaming at my desk at work, and I would always come back to wondering how this ever worked out in my favor.

I knew I was in love with him when we were sitting at the airport in late March waiting for my father to arrive. Blaine had leaned over and whispered in my ear so casually, "You know, I'll miss the winter. The paper thin snow and the frozen nights we've spent together. But, I have to say, that I think I could look in your icy blue eyes and feel it again so easily, maybe I won't miss it too much." If I were ice, I would have melted. I think a part of me did.

My dad was there, lengths away, but still all knowing. He saw the look on my face in that moment and told me later that it didn't matter who Blaine was, or what he did, only how he treated me. We were in love, he said, even before I fully noticed myself, and love was too big to fight off. So he accepted us. Not everyone did, even Finn had his moments where he cringed at me being with an older man. From my current spot on the bed by the window, Blaine looked younger than I felt inside. Age was a blurry factor of our relationship I had thrown away the minute he left University of Chicago's campus for the last time as a professor. We were at the same level and place in our lives, both now working jobs that forced us to put our all into each aspect. I was interning at a somewhat popular underground fashion website and magazine, fighting my way to the top with articles that had topics I didn't always agree with. Blaine was writing, writing, writing until his fingers, heart, and mind hurt.

"I'm done." He stood in the doorframe. "I finished." My eyes widened. He was crying, laughing, running towards the bed to climb on top of me. "Kiss me, damnit." I leaned up and touched our lips together, expecting innocence and receiving Blaine losing himself in it. His tongue spilled in between my lips, his teeth biting at me, our bodies moving to reposition on the bed. He pressed me down into the bed, his body incredibly close to my own. Blaine's hips rolled against mine, the kiss becoming extremely messy and open mouthed, his breathing increased as my body trembled. He took his time with me, breathing over my body as he unbuttoned my shirt, letting his hands skim across my pale skin. "I told myself I would do this after I was done writing. I thought it would make me write faster. It's been too long…" He dropped his head and kissed along my chest. He undid my pants, took them off, and removed my boxers. Blaine's hands kept touching me, never stopping. They roamed up my legs, across my cock, over my lips. I moaned, I shook, I begged. He gave me everything.

"Are you happy?" I was wrapped up in a blanket sitting across from him as he came down from his writing high. I watched as Blaine examined his fingers, showing me where he had an actual blister from it all.

"That's a trick question." He laughed, "With the novel? I'm not sure. With you? There's nothing I've been surer of." Blaine crawled over to where I was, sitting in front of me. "Are you happy?" I paused. I hadn't thought about it lately. Happiness surprised me in the form of Blaine, arriving to help me see the light out of the darkness depression created. I had never really sat down and acknowledged the fact that I was happy now. I wasn't hurting myself anymore, I wasn't hiding anything, I had friends, I was in love. I started to laugh. I really, truly, started to laugh. Blaine laughed with me, tickling my sides, and never questioning what had started my random outburst. We rolled around together until we succumbed to being tired, lying back against the pillows.

"I am happy. I am_ so_ happy."

Blaine likes to tell me that I stole his heart. I like to think that maybe that's where the real hiding place lies, beneath his layers. We took his heart and we used it as a shield. We damaged it together, we fixed it together. One day, I will slip on a ring, and we will switch hearts. He will take mine and I will tell him: "_This is the place where I love you. I made this place for you_." And if he ever gets scared, we will hide beneath it. We will damage it and we will ruin ourselves because it's not love if you don't come out with cuts and bruises. I will never fix him, I will never save him. He won't do that for me. We will save ourselves, and together, we will be beautiful.


End file.
